


Us

by Petiite



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:44:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1544705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petiite/pseuds/Petiite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you can be doing something completely normal, and it hits you:<br/>You're in pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Us

I excused myself from Zayn's hotel room, where all five of us had been lounging around, watching a movie. Well, some of us had been watching; Niall was browsing through his secret tumblr(he claims it's just a blog, but he refuses to show any of us what's on it), Liam was texting his mum(something about hopefully flying her to our show in Berlin), and Zayn had been sketching on his drawing pad(his next tattoo, I think). So, really, Louis and I were watching a movie in the presence of the other boys.

It hit like a ton of bricks. Despite the comedic animated movie(some Dreamworks movie that Paul picked up for his little one), I was unhappy. It had knocked the wind out of me, actually causing me to tear up. There was a pain, heavy in my chest and tickling up my throat.

Louis had been the only one to notice when I stood up, but even he didn't ask any questions as I rushed out of the room and across the hall into my own. That hurt. My best mate- and secret crush- just let me leave. With a frustrated sigh, I tried to place the feeling in my torso.

It was tight, maybe, but also sort of loose? It was a feeling of wanting to run away and never look back, and at the same time, it was wanting to slide into bed and never wake up. It caused my heart to beat irregularly, my lungs to tighten, and my throat to close. It made my wrists itch.

Fighting a sob of tension, I slid down the door and hid my face in my knees. Not again. I had had suicidal urges like this since I was young, but they had gone away when I had met the band- or, truly, when I had met Louis. He had been my saving grace, my everything, and even now, while he's dating Eleanor, I couldn't help but be amazed at every little thing he says. It's painfully obvious how much I fancy him, the boys tell me, but he still hasn't picked it up. Or if he has, he's decided not to mention it, which is worse. If I was never going to get a chance, I wanted to know.

Wetness on my legs notified me that I had started crying; Right, thinking about my less-than decent love life is not a great option right now. It scared me that I was having this urge- they, of course, didn't just disappear out of the blue. They would happen sporadically, and for shorter amounts of time, but as of the last few months or so, they were frequent. Like, two or three times a week.

With the weather improving, and us touring in warmer countries, it was getting harder for me to hide my relapses. Just the other night, I had been the only boy in the band to wear long sleeves, and  _they noticed._  The boys never notice anything, but when it's thirty fucking degrees, they were surprised to see me wearing my flannel. I dug the palm of my hand into my eye to stop the tears, before getting to my feet and stumbling to the bathroom. 

Forcing a sob to release my throat, I reached into my toiletries bag and pulled out my box. It was a small thing I had started at the end of the Take Me Home tour, but it was a subconscious decision to bring it with. I opened the top and let out a small breath of relief to see the silver metal reflecting my face. It was a high-quality razor blade, the type they sell at hardware stores, and it was my baby. Lifting it between the pads of my fingers, I just admired it for a moment.

This 30p purchase was going to get rid of all my problems.

It took me a second to be able to force myself to raise my sleeve(black, of course, so it wouldn't accidentally stain) to reveal my wrist. There were older, mostly faded scars from when I was younger, yet all but a few were replaced by puffy, red, newer scars. Never vertical- I wasn't aiming to kill myself, just release a bit of emotions. And, as I dragged the metal across the skin, hot, red, bubbling emotion escaped. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat at the realization that the feeling in my chest wasn't going away. It  _always_ went away when I spilled a little blood. Knitting my brows, I glanced at myself in the mirror and felt my breath hitch. The bathroom door was open behind me, and, at some point, Louis had entered my hotel room. _  
_

Quickly spinning on my heel to face him, I clapped my hand onto the counter, hiding the blade. "When did you-"

"How long have you been..?" He started, his blue eyes brimming with tears. He squeezed them shut, scrunching his entire face for a second before regaining his composure. "How long have you been cutting yourself, Harry?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I tried, but as blood was dripping from my wrist, it was an obvious lie.

"Harold." 

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I whispered, "Since I was thirteen." 

He took an exceptionally long time in letting out a sigh. "And recently?"

"I..." Glancing away from him, I felt a tear slip down my cheek. "I don't know, I just started needing it again."

"You  _never_  need to hurt yourself," Louis spat, punching the door frame. "Why didn't you bloody tell me? I'm your best mate..." His voice trailed off, and, as I looked back at him, I noticed he was doubled over, covering his face with his hand.

"L-lou?" I stammered, afraid to move.

"I'm- I'm sorry," he said, with his voice cracking ever so slightly. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"T-that you were alone," he sobbed, slowly looking up at me. If there was anything that Louis looked stunning doing, it was crying; his eyes were red and watery, causing the blue irises to pop, even from the distance. His face was tinted red, and, in a brief second, he rushed towards my and wrapped his arms around my waist.

My breath hitched as he sobbed into my shirt, repeating my name as a crying mantra. "W-what?" I said stupidly, not quite understanding what was going on. "You aren't- you aren't  _mad_?"

"I'm fucking furious," he hissed between sobs, and his fingers digging into my back punctuated his point. 

"Then... why are you crying?" I blinked, still confused at the situation. Shouldn't  _I_ be crying?

"Because- because I could've  _lost_  you, and I wouldn't have known until it was too late," Louis gasped, his shoulders shaking with emotion. "Why- why didn't you tell me?"

With no answer, I just shrugged.

After what felt like forever, he finally pulled away, wiping his face to get rid of the tear tracks. "Lemme take care of your wrist, okay?" 

"N-no, that's okay," I stammered, lifting it to my chest. Just because he knew about this one didn't mean that he got to know about all the others. "I can- I can do it myself."

"It's not a question, Harry," he demanded, looking up at me with some emotion that I couldn't place. "It's an order." Nodding slowly, I offered him my hand. He winced when he saw all the other scars, and, after a second, he glanced around the bathroom. "Do you have-"

"Yeah, there are some in the box-" and I immediately regretted it. My eyes followed him as he reached for the plastic case, and, as he lifted it, he froze in shock. Of course, I knew why- I had well over a dozen used, blood-stained blades, as well as several packages of bandages. He took several deep breathes, but stayed silent as he took a gauze wrap out. 

"You're throwing that entire box away," he stated, setting the edge of the wrap against my wrist before covering it a few times.  

"But-"

" _No_ ," he spat, flicking his eyes up to mine; they bore into my head with such anger that I couldn't quite handle it. "It's going away."

"A-alright," I whimpered, dropping my head to look at our feet. "I'm sorry."

"How long have you had that box?" 

"Since October."

His hand paused. "You've been cutting yourself for seven months?" 

"On and off," I shrugged, scared to look up. "It's been really bad recently."

"Why- what triggered it?" Louis begged, sliding his hand up to my bicep and rubbing a circle there with his thumb. 

"I don't know, I've just-" I squeezed my eyes shut to fight the tears that were pricking at the surface. "I've been having suicidal urges?"

"No, no no no," he stammered, his hand jumping from my arm to my cheek. "No, Haz, you're not allowed to kill yourself, ever." As I raised my head to gaze at him, I noticed his lip quivering again. "You  _can't_  fucking leave me, alright? I need you."

"I love you, Louis," I admitted, shocking myself as well as him. Well, I thought, no going back now. "I've loved you for so long, and it hurts to see you with Eleanor. It hurts to know that I'm never going to be yours. I thought I could just- I could just get over it, but I can't. I'm in love with you."

"Harry-"

"And now you want to leave, I get it," I choked, pursing my lips to keep from crying. "It's weird. I'm sorry. You sh-should go."

"Harry-"

"Please," I interrupted again. "I don't want to hear the  _I'm Sorry_ , I thought I did, but I don't think I can handle it."

"Haz-"

"Louis, please just leave me alone," I finished, pulling my wrapped wrist to my chest and shying from his hand.

Both of his hands clapped on either side of my cheeks, forcing me to look straight at him, before he said, "Will you listen to me?" A soft laugh left his lips, before he grinned at me with such joy that it felt out of place. "Fuck, Harry, I love you too." 

"W-what?"

"God, I've loved you since XFactor," he admitted, letting his palms slide to my neck. "Since I first fucking saw you and your dumb curly hair, I knew that I was fucking whipped. I never thought you'd-  _wow_ , do you actually?"

"Y-yeah," I nodded, feeling my chest lighten. "I thought you were straight though?"

He laughed loudly, the laugh that caused butterflies in my belly. "Are you kidding? You know me."

"But El-"

"Beard."

"And Hannah?"

"Closeting myself, so unsuspecting beard."

"But-"

"I'm gay, Harold," Louis grinned, curling his fingertips into my neck. "And I'm in love with you."

"I- I...  _wow_ ," I breathed, finally setting my hands on his back in a loose, hesitant hug. "I never would've thought."

"It was bloody obvious," he rolled his eyes. "I look at you like you're the fucking moon, according to the boys."

"They tell me that I look at you like, and I quote, the sun shines out of your ass," I grinned, still a little dazed. "I-  _wow_ , this is not how I expected this conversation to go."

"What do you mean?"

"I always thought, that when someone found out about my cutting," I shrugged, swallowing forcefully. "I don't know, that I would get kicked out of the band? That you guys would be so mad at me that you'd never want to see me again."

"We'd never," he huffed. 

"I never thought that it would end in, well,  _us_ ," I hummed, setting my chin on his hair. "That is- are we an us?"

"Yes," Louis mumbled against my neck. "We're an us."

"I love you so much," I breathed, feeling tears ping at my eyes again. This was, well, interesting. 

"I love you too," he whispered. "Do you want to tell the other boys?"

"I want to scream it from the rooftop."

"I meant about your self-harming, love," he sighed. "We don't have to, as long as you never do it again."

"We should, they deserve to know," I groaned, but squeezed his shoulders. "Can we go lay down?"

"Yes," he quickly stammered, stepping back with a worried look on his face. "Are you feeling light-headed? Do I need to call paramedics?"

"I'm fine," I chuckled. "My feet hurt from standing so long. It wasn't a deep cut, I'm okay."

"C'mon, let's get you to bed," he huffed anyway, lacing his fingers with mine and sending goosebumps up my arm. Letting him tug me to the queen-sized hotel bed, I fell face-first and pulled him with me. His forehead knocked against mine, causing him to let out a grunt. "Ow, Harold, I have to go throw your stuff away."

"Why can't you stay here and cuddle for a while?" I pouted, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "Will you kiss me?"

Louis paused for a second, before pressing his lips to mine. It was a long, gentle kiss, exactly how I had imagined, and, as he pulled away, I kept my eyes closed to savor the feel. "Are you ever going to cut again?"

"Not if I get another kiss like that."


End file.
